Starting Now (36 page)

The next person she saw was Peter, with a man she could only assume must be his father. Mark was there, too, talking to another man who Libby felt sure must be the Armstrongs’ attorney. They stood outside the nursery. Looking through the glass partition, Libby saw a woman she assumed was Peter’s mother with Amy Jo. She sat in the rocker and was cradling the infant in her arms.

As soon as she saw Libby she made eye contact with her husband.

“Hi, Libby,” Peter said, and quickly averted his gaze.

“Hello.” Libby stepped forward and extended her hand to Peter’s father. “Libby Morgan,” she said.

“Ron Armstrong. That’s my wife, Marlene. We’re wondering if we could all sit down and talk, preferably someplace private?”

“Of course. This floor has a small conference room; we could talk there if you’d like.”

“That would work.”

Ron, Peter, and Libby, plus the two attorneys, waited until Marlene joined them and then they all went into the conference room. Once inside Ron closed the door. He waited until everyone was seated around the table before he spoke. “Marlene and I asked for this meeting
today because we wanted to talk to you about the baby.” He looked to his attorney, who nodded for Ron to continue.

“Of course,” Libby said. It was perfectly understandable that they would want to meet the woman who was adopting their granddaughter. “I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have.”

“We understand you were wonderfully helpful to Ava,” Marlene said. “She told us everything you did for her and we want you to know how very grateful we are.”

“Ava’s a sweet kid, a bit lost since the death of her mother, and confused about life. She’ll be fine given time.” Because Libby felt it was important that they understand the emotional connection between her and Ava, Libby explained that her own mother had died when Libby was the same age as the teenager.

Marlene, Ron, and Peter listened and then Marlene spoke. “When we learned about the baby, well, you can imagine that we were more than a little shocked.”

“Of course,” Libby said.

“We understand you want to adopt the baby.”

“Yes.” She glanced at her attorney.

“We also understand that you’re currently unemployed,” Ron said, reaching for his wife’s hand.

“I’ve recently started my own law practice,” Libby said, stiffening.

“Do you have the financial resources to support a child?”

Libby could see where this was headed and she hesitated. Her savings account was dangerously low but she had investments. “I do,” she offered without explanation.

“You’d be a single parent.”

“Yes.” She yearned to mention her budding relationship with Phillip, but they were nowhere close to making a full commitment to each other.

“I see.” Ron and Marlene exchanged glances.

“As you can imagine, it’s taken us a few days to get our bearings and make a decision about what is best for our son and his child,” Ron said, holding her gaze.

Libby tensed, unsure of what was about to happen next, although she had a gut-wrenching feeling she knew. “And?” she asked, anxiety gripping her throat to the point she was barely able to speak.

She had every right to be worried.

Marlene looked to her husband, who spoke on their behalf. “My wife and I have decided that we want to raise Peter’s daughter ourselves. This child is our child, too. Marlene has always wanted a daughter, and despite several attempts we were only able to have Peter. This baby is our blood. We have the financial resources to care for her properly and the advantage of a two-parent home. We’ve already spoken to an attorney, who has contacted your attorney. Legally you can’t follow through with the adoption …”

The rest of what he said remained a blur. The bottom line was that Libby wouldn’t be adopting Amy Jo. In fact, the Armstrongs had already decided on another name. A family name. Grace Jennifer.

No longer was this Libby’s daughter. Amy Jo would go to another family who had chosen another name. Another mother.

“What about Ava?” Libby asked once the fog had cleared.

“Our attorney is working out the details with her and her grandmother now.”

“It would be good if Ava had representation as well.” Libby would see to that herself.

“I imagine this is a terrible disappointment to you,” Marlene said sympathetically. “I’m sorry for that, but surely you can see that this is the best option all around. Grace will be with family, with those who love her.”

“I love her,” Libby insisted.

“We realize that,” Ron said gently. “But she’ll have both a mother and a father who are related to her by blood. You wouldn’t want to deny Grace that, would you?”

“No,” Libby choked out. “No … I want her to have the best of everything.”

“We do, too,” Marlene whispered. “We do, too.”

As soon as Phillip heard the news from Sharon Jennings, he left the hospital. He didn’t know where he’d find Libby; the thought of Libby facing this alone undid him. She hadn’t answered any of his calls, nor had she responded to the messages he’d left on her voice mail. When his frustration grew so much that he couldn’t remain at the hospital any longer, he went directly to Libby’s condo.

Phillip found Libby on the floor of the baby’s nursery. She was huddled in a tight ball and sobbing so hard her entire body shook.

“Libby,” he whispered, and got down on the floor next to her. He wrapped his arms around her and she eagerly sank into his embrace. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, so very sorry.”

She couldn’t speak, and for a moment he wondered if she was even breathing as he held and rocked her. He didn’t have any words of comfort, any words of wisdom to share. When pain was this deep he figured it was best to say nothing.

After a while she stopped weeping and simply clung to him.

“They want to adopt Amy Jo,” she whispered brokenly.

“I heard.”

“She’s their granddaughter.”

“I know.”

“They didn’t think I could love her as much as they would.”

“They’re wrong about that.”

Her arms tightened around him. “How is it possible to love a baby this much and not be linked by blood?” she whispered.

Phillip had no answer to give her. “I don’t know how it happens, but it does. I’ve seen it; I know it’s true.” He resisted the urge to kiss her for fear of where it would lead. He wanted her badly, yearned to comfort her, to show his love, to slowly sink his body into hers and protect her from the pain that consumed her. He would do anything to lift this heartache from her shoulders but felt helpless; all he could do was hold her and kiss her. Her response was strong and immediate. He realized he could make love to her right here on this carpet. His need was great but his love was stronger. Together they would get through this. He would help Libby as best he could.

“How … how’d you get into the condo?” she asked, rubbing the moisture from her cheeks.

“The door was unlocked. I rang the bell, but I don’t think you could hear it.”

“I didn’t,” she said, and blew her nose into the thick wad of tissues in her hands.

Phillip brushed the hair away from the sides of her face. Her nose was red and her eyes swollen and yet he could honestly say he’d never loved her more. His heart ached for her. If it were humanly possible he would absorb her pain, take it within himself rather than see Libby endure this emotional turmoil. He had never felt this way before. Never.

“What can I do to help you?” he asked, willing to do anything, make any sacrifice. Whatever she asked, he’d find a way.

“Just … hold me.”

“I will.” He kissed her crown, pressing her tightly against his heart.

“I … I went to the chapel after I met with the Armstrong family,” Libby whispered. “I didn’t talk to God … I spoke to my mother. I asked her—” She broke off for a moment and struggled not to break into sobs again. “I asked my mother,” Libby said, trying again, “what I should do.”

Phillip could picture her there in the hospital chapel, brokenhearted, reaching out to the one person in the world she knew for sure had loved her.

“My first thoughts were crazy,” Libby admitted. “I devised a plan to make off with Amy Jo and take her somewhere. I started figuring out how to do it, and had concocted all kinds of schemes before I realized I was being totally delusional. I love her. I would give anything to make this nightmare go away.” She buried her face in his chest and broke into heart-wrenching sobs.

Phillip rested his chin on the top of her head and gently stroked her back.

“I so badly wanted to be her family.”

“I know, my darling, I know.”

“Abby was going to hold a baby shower for me at the hospital.”

Phillip had heard all about that. In fact, several of the doctors he knew had planned to attend.

“I lost my family when my mother and brother died. My father … he just sort of gave up. It wasn’t any better after he remarried. I always felt on the outside … like I didn’t matter.”

“You matter to me,” Phillip whispered as he stroked her hair.

“I’m just feeling sorry for myself, aren’t I? This is nothing more than a pity party.”

“You’re entitled.”

“I called my dad and you know what he said?”

“No,” Phillip whispered, although he had a good idea Libby hadn’t gotten much sympathy from her father.

“He said that it just must not have been meant to be …”

The man might have tried to reassure Libby she could still have a family of her own one day, Phillip mused. Apparently it wasn’t in the old man’s heart to offer love and sympathy to his daughter. He hadn’t
been able to when Libby had lost her mother, so it made sense that he was equally incapable now.

She was silent for a long time. “I felt better after talking to Mom.”

“Good.”

“No one ever loved me as much as my mother.”

“No one ever does,” Phillip whispered.

The doorbell rang again and before Libby or Phillip could react, the front door opened and Robin rushed into the nursery.

“Libby, I got here as soon as I could,” Robin cried. She paused when she saw Phillip holding Libby on the nursery floor. The crib was all assembled, with a cute mobile dangling above. In fact, everything was laid out and ready for Amy Jo to come home. Phillip knew Libby must have been up half the night putting everything into place, and it was all for naught.

“Oh, Libby,” Robin said and sank to her knees. “I am so sorry.” She stretched her arms around the two of them and hugged Libby, too.

“Who … who told you?” Libby whispered.

“Phillip. He called to tell me what happened and said you weren’t answering your phone.”

Libby lifted her head in order to look up at him. “You called me?”

Phillip had left no fewer than six messages before heading out to find her. He’d felt an irrepressible need to be with her.

“Phillip thought you’d want your friends around you.”

Libby stretched out her arm and Robin grabbed hold of her fingers. “You’ll get through this, Libby. I know you will.”

Libby nodded and seemed to find strength in her friend’s confidence. “I will … it’s just that it hurts so much right now.”

Phillip realized this was just one more loss to hit Libby after so many others.

A knock sounded against the door and a voice called from the front of the condo.

“Libby. Libby, are you there?”

It was Lydia from the yarn store.

“Come in,” Robin called out. “We’re in the nursery.”

“Oh, Libby,” Lydia said, kneeling down on the floor with the others. “I’m so sorry. Ava told Casey that Peter’s parents have decided to adopt the baby.”

“Tell your friend Alix, the baker, she can cancel the order for the cake for the baby shower,” she said, biting into her lower lip.

“Oh, honey, don’t you worry about that right now. We’ll take care of everything,” Lydia assured her.

Now that Libby was surrounded by her friends, Phillip could see she was in good hands for the time being. Slowly he released her and stood.

Libby raised her eyes to his, pleading with him not to leave.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” he said, and pressed his hand to his lips and then cast the kiss to her just the way she’d done for him so recently.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

By the time he returned with a quart of wonton soup her friends had left. Libby answered the door and she looked somber, but he could see that she’d pulled herself out of the first shock of the emotional crisis.

“What’s that?” she asked, looking at the bag in his hand.

“Soup. I couldn’t think what else to bring.” It’d taken him the better part of an hour to decide what to get for dinner. It wasn’t like menus offered suggestions for what best ails a broken heart.

“Soup,” she repeated.

“Will that do?”

“I was going to cook you dinner,” she whispered.

“I know. You can do it another time; tonight it’s on me.”

“Thank you.”

He went into the kitchen and brought down two bowls. “I would have brought wine but I couldn’t think of what would go with wonton soup.”

“It’s wonton?”

“One of your favorites, right?”

“Yes, but I’m surprised you knew that.”